


In Another Time

by orphan_account



Category: Le Petit Prince | The Little Prince - Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
Genre: M/M, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:06:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23022199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: If only he'd had the time, or the inclination.
Relationships: Le Petit Prince | The Little Prince/Le pilote | The Pilot
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12
Collections: Smut 4 Smut 2020





	In Another Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [indigo_inks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigo_inks/gifts).



_ Send me word that he has come back… _

The pilot was rescued three days after he saw the little prince leave Earth, delirious and half-mad with thirst. He tried to speak to his rescuers of a sheep on a planet with one flower and many baboas. They rejected his words and flew him home to Paris, where he could see nothing of his little prince in the gray city streets and the rain which poured in sheets from his eaves every day.

In the absence of his prince he let his hands fall to his body. The pilot thought of what he might have done to the little prince had he more time, or had the little prince shown the inclination. In France he’d had to keep a secret of his desires, but nobody in the Sahara desert could have ever known or seen what he wished to do.

It’d have been a gradual process. First he’d have laid on the sand next to the prince, hopefully in the pre-dawn or the first fingers of twilight. Any other time would have been too hot. In his loose blue clothes and purple scarf the prince seemed cool, but the pilot kept on his googled hat and heavy flight jacket to prevent sunburn. When the sun disappeared around the horizon he could have spread it out on the sand and invited the prince to be with him.

“You’ll be cold,” he’d have said. “Stay warm here with me.”

So trusting was his little prince! So trusting and childish. From the first night they met the pilot had been overwhelmed with a desire to take that innocence and wring its skinny neck. His prince didn’t come from a planet where youths had been taught to shy away from older men. He was bold and curious and wouldn’t have hesitated.

The pilot would have unbuttoned his stained white shirt, and pulled the prince to his flesh. Kissing wasn’t something he enjoyed, but he did like to leave marks of love on his boys. Bruises bitten into their necks, or bright red circles where he’d grab their flesh and pinch and twist. Others might have yelped. The prince would have asked why the pilot hurt him so.

“It comes from love,” he would have said. 

The expression which his boys got on their faces when the pilot undid his pants was one he wished he could keep forever. Some blushed at the sight of his cock, while others stretched out curious fingers with which to tap its length, wary eyes trained on his like they thought they might do something wrong. The prince would probably be in the latter group, stretching both of his hands to accommodate the pilot. Had he ever touched his own cock? Possibly, since there was so little to do on his small planet, although the volcanos and baboas and the flower seemed to take up most of his time…

“Do people commonly do such things on your planet?” the pilot could hear the Prince saying in his head. “I’ve never seen them.”

“That’s because it’s private. A secret between two people. And you’re so young.” 

In this fantasy he lifted the prince’s wrists to his hand and kissed them, twice on each twig of muscle and bone. Home in Paris he’d take those wrists and pin them above a youth’s head, making him easier for the taking. In the desert there wasn’t room. In the desert the pilot stripped the prince to his skin and then pressed their bodies flush together. His man’s hands could pull their cocks together and press them in unison. Both of them would grow damp with precum and sweat. 

The stars overhead (hear them! They ring like bells!) would watch as the pilot took care of himself and the prince with slow, steady strokes. His beloved had been a golden pale that would flush bright and warm, all boyish red cheeks and impatient squirming. The pilot, older and patient, would slow at this point and trap them both before the peak.

“The longer you wait, the better it feels.”

“But if I have it now-”

“Then it will be a shadow of what it could be. There are many areas where you are wise, but this is not one of them. For all that they do not know grown-ups do know this.”

Delaying orgasm was a trick of the pilot’s. The more desperate a boy grew, the more clingy he became, until his every movement was dedicated solely to lavishing pleading affection. But no amount of begging would have made the pilot hurry. He would keep his time by the movement of the moon through the ever-clear sky, stroking every half minute to keep up the game. Want prickled under his skin warmly but he wouldn’t yield. 

“I want you,” the prince would have said after being stretched to the point of breaking. “Touch me, please.”

“Not yet.” 

Would the prince whimper, or would he stay silent as the dunes and only grimace? A meaner pilot would have continued the endless pattern. The pilot was not so cruel. He turned the prince away from him, and slot his cock between the prince’s small thighs. The upwards curve brushed along the underside of the prince’s cock, making him shudder and squirm. 

“Hold your legs tight, and I’ll reward you.” The pilot imagined his voice husky and low. It was a voice that ensured easy compliance, and the feel and warmth of his beloved prince made him orgasm, in both the fantasy and in the real world where he was a lonely man in a cold flat stroking his cock to what may have been no more than a hallucination.

After the fantasy faded the pilot realized he hadn’t kept his promise to the prince. The patheticness of his own actions humbled him. He could no more love his golden haired boy than he could fly to space and find him himself, and so he had resorted to mere fantasies of a fantasy. And that was the cruelty of it, wasn’t it?


End file.
